Thoughts of An Eaten Sun > v3

All Days of v3 in One Place

The dusk faded from the air and night descended over a small village that was nestled in a drowsy cove. Winds stirred the water’s surface and waves lapped gently at the cove’s sandy shore. Lanterns stood in the middle of the cobblestone street that lead south, along the coast, and to a neighboring town.

A small field sat next to the road, and children ran about between the tall grasses and wildflowers. The flowers swayed with the wind and speckled the night with muted colors as the lantern light caught them as they moved.

Parents called from house porches for their children to come inside for dinner. The sun’s heat kept the children warm tonight, even without jackets to block the wind. Two boys ignored their mother’s call and still ran about the field playing tag.

Just inside the trees that bordered that clearing , a wolf sat with eyes glowing with Lantern. Its tongue lapped hungrily at its lips. Thirty minutes later, the worried mother stood on the street, calling into the dark field and hearing no response. She stomped angrily back home, wringing the dishcloth that hung over her shoulder.

The boys’ father burst outside, with a lantern in hand and made his way from house to house. He knocked at each and asked if the boys were there. When the last home had told him the boys weren’t there, this father made his way to the field and held the lantern high as he scoured first the meadow and then the surrounding woods.

The tracks and trompings of all the town’s kids during their play made it impossible to divine any information from tracks on the ground and bent grass. The father shouted promises of spankings to the woods and then headed home. He consoled his wife by reminding her that the boys were older now, and probably thought they were exceedingly clever in hiding so well. How many times had the father done something like that in his childhood?

He sat a lantern on a hook on the porch and left the door unlocked. He poured himself and his wife a drink, and sat her down to work on her paintings, and then sat himself down to resume work on the knife’s handle he was whittling. Soon enough, they would tire of the game and come back for a hot meal.

The drinks must have been mixed strong, because it was morning before the mother and father realizes they had fallen asleep on the couch together. The woman leapt up and brushed the hair out of her face and the sleep from her eyes. She raced into the bedroom of the boys’ upstairs in hopes of finding them asleep there, but the beds were empty.

The father had stirred when the mother ran upstairs, and he stood now at the base of the staircase as she walked out from the room, speechless. He waved his arms for her to come down to him and she plodded down the stairs, ending up in his hug.

“We’ll look for them,” he told her, and he ran his hands through her hair. Soon, he was headed out the front door, down the little footpath, and into the street. The lantern on the porch had burned itself out.

He went to the houses for a few of his drinking buddies and told them of the missing boys. Each of the people threw on boots and headed out into the foggy morning to round up the rest of the group.

They all headed over to the meadow where the boys has last been known to be. Nothing had seemed different from the night before, and dew sat heavy on the wildflowers and grasses. The group spread out to cover more area, and branches cracked and grass trampled as they scoured the area.

A call ran through the air, followed by a loud whistle. One of the group, a lady with long black hair, waved them all over. She stood in the backward of a house across the street from the meadow, several paces away from the chicken coop.

The front mesh had been ripped out and chicken carcasses lay scattered in the coop and around the lawn. A chicken or two that had escaped were pecking along the fence line up near the house.

Blood lay thick on the grass, and stained feathers that sat about, some stuck in the mesh itself. A vicious attack claimed the poor chickens. A dripping from the roof caught the father’s eye and then he screamed in terror. At the apex of the roof sat his two boys. But only their heads and long, wet spines. Intestines had slipped off the roof and onto the ground. A quick search revealed bloody wolf prints that lead from the coop, over the fence, and into the woods. The boys wouldn’t be back for any more hot meals.

The boys’ father clambered up the chicken coop and crouched there cradling his son’s heads. His wailing drew others from their homes, and the group he’d searched with stood, watching him, unsure of what to do.

When the boys’ mother walked out on to her porch, holding a half-eaten muffin in her hand, she looked around for the source of the sound. When she located her husband on the chicken coop, she looked at first puzzled, and then a possibility hit her.

She dropped the muffin and ran to the house, swept her legs and dress over the wooden fence, snagging it in the process, and scrambled up the broken coop. When she saw her little boys’ faces, and the realization of their deaths hit her, she threw her arms around first her husband, and then her boys’ heads.

She clutched them to her chest and stained the white blouse she wore with tears and blood and spinal fluids. She and her husband rocked with shock and grief for a while before someone had the sense to pull them down from the coop, lead them (unwillingly) away from the murder scene, and to their home.

The lady who took the initiative told them the town would prepare the bodies for a funeral service and they would have everyone gathered in a few hours’ time. The sound of the mother’s crying lasted hours, and poured out of their upstairs bedroom over the hot and humid summer air. The father sat on the front porch, staring blankly at the wooden panels of the porch.

Everyone else from the town helped collect the boys’ remains, and get them over to the doctor’s house. As he examined and prepared the bodies for burial, several others helped remove the broken chicken coop. The damage was so extensive, including the staining with blood, that they would tear this one down completely.

A bucket brigade brought water from the cove to wash blood from the ground and fence and help get rid of the gore. Once these chores had been done, and people sat down for the first time in hours, the first reaction was horror at what their eyes had seen, and then despair for the family who would never be the same.

Many more parents comprised this town, however, so how could they take action to make sure this did not happen again to any more of the poor children? The children were told to stay inside the homes as the parents worked, but many little eyes peered out from curtains through glassy windows.

After the funeral, and condolence meal, they would send out a search party, armed with muskets, to look for the wolf’s trail. Hammer strokes sounded along the street as the carpenter put nails through wooden boards as he constructed the coffins. Full-size for the children, even though the remains would fill a small portion of it.

The carpenter took the coffins to the doctor’s house, and some time later was loading up a cart for horses to draw to the town square. Flowers and ribbons of many colors were laid out around and on the closed coffins, which lay side by side on bales of hay.

A small cemetery nearby was host to several strong individuals who were digging the deep graves. From the end of the street came the town’s oldest living person. She was seventy seven, and in rather good health. Her son and grandson held her arms as she walked toward the square. She would be responsible for saying a few words during the ceremony.

A small group of people went to the parents’ home, helped them get dressed, and lead them, all clad in black, to the town’s square, and sat them on plush chairs which had been brought from nearby homes. The elder sat on another bale of hay, next to the coffins, and spread a few more flowers over them before she slowly rose to speak.

“I’ve the unfortunate duty to announce the passing of the Doolsun’s boys, Dean and Hunter. They were taken from us last night by what appears to be a wolf.”

“Their father Henry found them this morning. And will be happy to hear that several of the town’s folk will begin scouring the area soon in search of that beast. I wish to express all our condolences to Henry and Loretta during this tragic time. But also remind them of the Mechanisms which tell us how the world, a beautiful and wondrous home we inhabit, was created through the Cataclysm. We will all be here with them to support them, recognize the grief they hold, and do all we can to show them love and inclusion and opportunity in our small community.”

She set a large yellow lily on top of each boy’s casket. Each wooden coffin had the name carved into the top in large block letters. Henry and Loretta wept in one another’s arms as the elder motioned for a group of men to come and shoulder the first, larger coffin, which was Hunter’s.

They lead their way to the first gravesite, which sat between two large granite stones, and sat the coffin over the opening of the grave, suspended on a rope. Another set of men helped lower the coffin on these ropes into the soil.

The coffin bearers returned for little Dean’s casket, and brought it to the grave as well, this time trailing the parents. They were in their black best and a hood fell over the mother’s solemn features.

Another couple brought the mourning wreaths which they gave to Henry and Loretta. The parents drove the stakes of the wreaths into the soil, and then placed handfuls of earth into each pit. From there, Henry shoveled in more dirt and a few people stepped in from the back to help him fill in the graves. The mourning wreaths would serve as markers, along with the fresh soil, until headstones could be located and carved.

The group made way to the town square and there were long wooden tables topped with a selection of meats, fruits, and early-harvest vegetables. Any beverages were of the sweet kind. Neither parent ate much, but the rest of the group had earned a nice meal for their help with the day. And thanks were given to those who’d cooked the food.

After the lunch, which was quite warm with the sun and cloudless sky, a group gathered with long rifles and bows and arrows. They would start in the meadow and by the chicken coop and fan out to see if they could locate the wolf.

This wolf had sat a few yards into the woods on the edge of the cemetery during the funeral and looked longingly at the prospects for food. As the parents left the graveyard, he cast a nasty glance up at the sun which shown so brightly now and irritated his eyes. From here, the wolf slunk off further into the forest, to rest and avoid the sun until later tonight, when he would prowl the town again. The boys and the hens had filled his belly and grown his length. But he would need more.

The hunting party returned in the early dark, just after the sun had set. Nothing to show for their effort but a few spent shellcases. And these had been collected after Henry fired angrily into a large tree which sat along a river. One they expected the wolf to drink from, because paw prints were lost there, and scatter into the woods further along.

They made their way out of the forest, down the road, and heard children playing in the town’s square. These were too little to know what happened. Henry’s eyes watered as he heard their laughs, and headed straight for his home. Loretta sat on the porch, numbly watching the fireflies which dotted their yard.

The moon rose above the trees and the husband lead his wife inside to the warm lantern light. The other parents collected their progeny and went indoors as well. They’d not give an easy option to that carnivore tonight.

Smoke from the chimneys rose with the smell of meaty dinners. The wolf stalked back from his dayhide, and sat within the forest’s borders. His eyes glinted again from the street’s lamp posts, and he squinted at the moon in disapproval. Too bright for him too.

That spot he sat for many hours, biding his time. Until a teen came from the house, holding a lantern, looking for the outhouse. As the boy closed the door, he found it blocked by something. He tried again to no avail. He looked down and saw the wolf’s snout there. He recoiled and dropped the lantern with a yell.

The kerosene base cracked and met the flame from the wick. The wolf moved into the outhouse, pinning the boy with the door, as the flames spread to the boy’s robe. He let up a wail of pain as the fire seered his skin. And the wolf’s jaws clamped down on his neck to eat the sound.

He flailed at the burning robe and wolf to no avail. The wolf dragged the boy’s body into the woods as the outhouse went up in flames. The boy’s sister had heard the skirmish and looked out her bedroom window. She saw the last of the wolf disappearing into the woods with her brother, robe still alight, and she called out for her parents. They rushed into her room, to gather the story, and then into the backyard and forest to save their boy.

The father had grabbed his shotgun from above the door and fired it into the air to wake his neighbors.

“The wolf has my boy! Here, hunters, here to me! Help me save my boy!”

His voice trailed off as doors rattled open and boots stomped over wood, gravel, and branches in pursuit. The father followed the light he could still make out, unsure of what burnt now. The light stopped its retreat and he slowed as he drew closer. He raised his gun and approached. He came upon part of the robe that had torn from the sleeve on a branch.

It burned itself down, and worked at lighting the dry branch that had snagged it. His gaze shifted from the flame to the crushed undergrowth that signaled where the wolf had dragged his boy.

He couldn’t see anything or hear any noises further along, but he stiffened his grip on the shotgun and followed along the crushed undergrowth. A few steps in and he heart a noise to his right. He fired into the dark and the last thing he could see from the muzzle flash was that he’d fired too far to the right.

The wolf, heavier than the day before, hit him in the chest and his cries were drowned by the crushing teeth and all he felt was fur enveloping him. Several other hunters had heart his shot and made for the sound, triangulating as best they could.

A few carried lanterns which helped greatly. They too eventually found the branch alight, and searched the area. Nothing besides the trampled ground, sprinkled with blood, to tell what had happened. The group fathered here and advanced further into the forest. But the wolf had as good as disappeared, for they could find no trail of him once the path reached the river again.

Uncertain and worried, they made their way back to the town, afraid for what these disappearances meant. Last night, two young boys, and this night a teen and his father. Morning light rose and burned off the steam from the fog that had settled before dawn. The outhouse sat, charred and still smoldering. And also rested the skulls and spines of the boy and his father, left in the middle of the cobblestone road and bloody paw prints.

A man on his way to fish in the river, early in the morning, came across the remains of the boy and his father. Both the sister and mother had fallen asleep in exhaustion waiting up for them, and were terrified to go outside. A knocking on the door awoke them and caused their hearts to sink as the fisherman delivered the news.

The man comforted them as best he could, before telling them to go back inside while he fetched the others. The morning fog burnt off as hammers and saws made another pair of coffins for the deceased. More graves were excavated and caskets lowered. The cries of the immediate and extended family filled the air, and these were soon followed by cries to do something to prevent the beast from bringing hell for a third night running.

The town’s elder suggested a night watch. Another suggested placing lanterns around the town to help the watchers keep a lookout. By evening, eight people were preparing for their night’s duty. They would use two groups of four people, patroling together. The moon rose again over the town and the wolf stared at it for a time, hateful, before heading away from the lanterns which encircled the town. He would feast elsewhere, on non-human flesh. The watches passed without event, and as the sun rose, the last group could see where they’d worn a path in the field and along the outer perimeter of the fences where the companies had made their rounds. And the town was hopeful.

Until midday, when a shepherd from the nearby fields came into town to tell of the slaughter that had befallen his sheep. In the night, he heard their terrified bleating, and in the moon’s light could see a large animal ravaging his flock, but he had no weapons to try and attack, and his dogs cowered by his side. With the morning, and assurance that the creature had long vanished, he took stock of the damage and found eight animals obliterated.

Again, the only remains were the head and spines, left ominously in a nearby tree. Blood blanketed the ground, and the shepherd had run right here to tell the town of his story and to ask help in gathering the remains of his scattered flock. He’d be destroyed otherwise.

A group went in search of the sheep and found all of them huddled in a low-hung cave next to bluffs to the town’s south. The dead sheep would hurt his year, but the town vowed to assist as they could. They also told him of their recent experiences, and he stood speechless for a moment before saying he was lucky to have made it out alive. And he wondered if he could take his flock elsewhere for a time where they might be safer, until the menace had passed.

((What kind of story is this that predicts the end of the world in a time and way that never happened, but the story is known and renowned the world over and well into the future? I also want to go back here and give names to the people. And name the places too. This story is somewhat a myth, but perhaps more a fable or fairy tale.))

At any rate, he felt it would be foolish to stay. That would invite the wolf back again tonight, and he would be easy prey for the beast. The town’s folk told the shepherd he was welcome to stay with them, and brought up how their guarding had worked the night before.

He was skeptical of their defenses and ability though he dared not mention this to such helpful and friendly people. He politely declined and mentioned how he had family in a nearby town, which happened to lie a bit closer to the mountains. The sheep would do well in the rolling foothills, particularly this time of year when the rivers were still high from the snow melt. And with the help of his dogs, he lead the sheep along the small path which took him away from the town.

Back to their townsquare the town’s folk went, to discuss the success of the night’s guard, and to plan the coming night’s actions. The shepherd’s story made the wolf sound larger. Bigger than anything the people in town had yet seen. Was the meat and blood and sport of the kill making him both larger and more bold?

(We don’t want shotguns here. That father should grab a musket rifle from above his door. And a black powder pistol from the door frame too. The lack of rapid fire is what does him in. Should the wolf ever be shot? Part of me says no. This will add to the mythical quality of the animal, and show the reader that it is a force of nature that will trounce mankind. The evading the wolf does attests to its skill. And shows how this creature becomes the one that can eat the sun. Terrifying and flawless in execution.))

They would increase the number of guards to a total of ten for the night. Two shifts of five. And they staked more lanterns in the ground. The heat of the day wore on, and an afternoon thunderstorm brought torrential rain. The downpour let up just as dusk settled over the town. Tiny streams of water ran down the cobblestone street, through the meadow where the first boys had been taken, and through the forest to the river.

The townsfolk lit the lanterns early, and the families settled in for the night. The rambunctious children, whose energy had been pent up by the storm, made lots of noise in the night, as they played until parents sent them off to bed, unwilling. The first guard slung muskets over their shoulders and began their patrols. With the lanterns, good portions of the forest’s border was visible even from several hundred feet away. Water dripped from the tree’s leaves to puddles on the ground.

Halfway through the night, the bleating of sheep sounded in the distance. It took another several minutes for the night watch to realize just what the sound was. The moon had crept again into the night sky and the forest cast its shadow onto the path which lead into it. And down that path came a flicker. Dots appeared far off, which were red and white and disappeared quickly. Others flickered into existence and shook up and down.

The sound had attracted the guard and they stood on cobblestone, muskets slack in their hands. Watching these confusing dots appear, bounce, and disappear. Faint shapes appeared. Within seconds, the shapes of white sheep were visible. The dots in the night had been their eyes reflecting either the lanterns or the moonlight. The sheep were running haphazardly, clumsily stumbling into one another.

A pair of dots appeared behind the sheep, set much higher off the ground now. These moved up and down quickly. Soon enough, the outline of the wolf appeared. He was sprinting after the sheep. As he got closer and the light caught more of his shape, the guard were staggered at how large it was. At least as large as a bear. But fast and agile. Its jaws clamped on the hind quarters of a sheep and it slid to a stop on the dirt path. It quickly changed its bite to the sheep’s neck, which audibly snapped. Several violent chomps and most of it had been devoured.

The guard finally snapped to and raised their muskets to the hulking wolf. Muzzle flash and smoke erupted into the night air and then obscured their sight. More bleating filled the night air as sheep ran through the smoke and past the group, which startled the guards. Before they even had time to react, the wolf was upon them. A man was bitten in his chest and collapsed to the ground. Next, two women were taken by the neck. A remaining man made a run for it, while a woman fumbled for a musket pistol. She was bitten in the arm and yanked from her feet, into the wolf’s clutches. None of their musket shots seemed to have hit the wolf.

It tossed the injured woman to the ground and ended the fleeing man’s life quickly. The wolf then made his way back to the other guards and finished them off. The shots had waken other townsfolk, including the second guard watch, but by the time any had rushed outside to see the last of the smoke breaking up, the wolf had already dragged all the bodies off into the woods.

The following morning no skulls and spines were found. Now the wolf didn’t need to leave those behind to strike is fear. The mere anticipation of the following night was bad enough.

((Founsel is the town’s name))

Dawn found the town already bustling with activity. A group funeral was held for the guardswatch slain in duty. A group worked to wash the blood from the street and dirt path, as another worked to gather the remains of the sheep that were scattered about. And several households were packing up the essentials into their wagons.

A neighbor asked, “What are you doing?” Douth replied, “We are using the day to put as many miles between Founsel and us as we can. We’ll aim for a place like Harsenth or Bansuth. Towns far away from here.”

He placed some more bags of clothing onto the wagon and then asked in return, “Why in the hell would you stay?”

To which Shec replied, “Founsel’s always been my home. No wolf is going to change that.”

“Suit yourself. But I won’t let my family die here.”

“Dying in a strange land seems preferable, then””

But Douth ignored the comment and went back into the house to get another load. Of the thirty families living in Founsel, eight were gone by noon. The dust from their leaving caravan finally died down as the sun shown hot. Those who stayed discussed their options for another night. As the guard did not seem to work, they decided to lock up their homes at dusk, sleep with a musket close at hand, and hope against hope that the wolf would pass onto easier prey.

The afternoon and early evening was spent boarding up windows and reinforcing doors. As dusk arrived, the remaining families bid one another good night and good luck and secured their homes. Mothers fell asleep with their babes in arm, and fathers dozed with their children in both arms. This was a storm they had to ride out.

The moon rose once more and its light only fell into the upper-story windows of the homes. And that’s the path the wolf took as well. As he crept silently into the town and walked down the length of the street, he found all the lower stories secured. But the flesh he’d eaten lately had grown and strengthened him. His front paws now rested on the porch roof as he reared up. Right from the street, he lept up to crash through a bedroom window. And that family was swallowed down before any could yell. They went together.

As the wolf left the house, a shot, flash, and smoke erupted from the upper window from the house across the street. That owner had heart the window shatter and come to the window armed. The wolf sprang from his position, far to the side, and then bounded for the attacker. That man and his wife were taken too. By now, eyes had appeared in other windows along the street, but they watched in stunned terror as the wolf went from house to house to snatch up his nightly meal. He went right through a full half of the homes that night, before vanishing into the woods again, the ground shaking under his girth.

Families, the following morning, pried themselves out of their boarded up and secure homes. From their microcosms emerged energetic children who ran to pay in the streets and meadow. A layer of clouds covered the town as warmth built up as part of the day.

The parents investigated the homes of those attacked during the night. None answered any of the calls or knocks on the front or back doors. So a carpenter brought out a ladder and used it to get up to the windows on the second story and climbed in through the fractured frame.

The homes were all a mess of scattered and broken belongings. And the roofs sagged in areas where structural damage had been done as the wolf clambered through hallways and inner doors. Blood painted the floors and spattered the walls. Huge claw marks gouged into the floors and walls, and, in some cases,through the entire wooden planks.

The violence wrought by the wolf took breaths and words away. There were no remains of the families attacked, and the town agreed that none would live in those homes after the horrors that had occurred. So the town set the homes ablaze as pyres to the families, even if it were only belongings that went up in smoke.

This was more for the benefit of the surviving town members than as actual tribute or remembrance of the deceased. The homes burned quickly and the towering infernos soon reduced to smoldering, flattened coal beds. But they smoked and burned on all through the day and into the evening.

A layer of smoke and ask settled over the entire area and lended toward the moon’s rays piercing eerily through the haze as night fell. Before the homes were set alight, the town’s members took timber and nails from them to help shore up the top floors of their homes. They would not give the wolf such easy passage tonight, regardless of his size.

And another six families packed up all their goods onto wagons and made a caravan out of town in the same way as those yesterday had. Those who remained couldn’t blame them for leaving, but there was no possibility for them to flee. Their home wouldn’t be taken from them or their kin by menace of a beast. Those handful of families that remained were safely inside their well-secured homes before the sun’s disc had even touched the top of the forest as it set.

They slept earlier in the evening, as they could, so as to be more alert during the full night when they expected the wolf to appear. Children hardly slept though. Instead they lie in their beds staring with fright at the boarded up doors and windows which let through small slivers of moon-light.

The wolf had set aside his avoidance of the sun in order to follow the caravan out of town. His hatred for the brightness and heat welled up inside him, but was overtaken by his lust for the easy meals which creakily made their way out of the town’s cove.

As the sun slipped toward dusk, when the wagons were still some way from the nearest town of Harsenth, thanks to the time lost repairing a broken wheel, the wolf launched his attach. Straight up the darkening path, and through the wagons that were all in a line. The wolf had grown in size again compared to the previous night, and was nearly the size of a house.

The wagons and riders and contents splintered under his paw and clenching jaws. He gobbled down the families, and spilled relatively little of their blood tonight seeing as he was able to swallow many of them whole, particularly the young and the old. The wolf lie down on the path and napped as he digested his meal, but this was not his only course for the night.

When the darkness gathered more, the wolf’s eyes slid open and he pushed himself to his feet. He’d no longer fit in the cave he had been used to sleeping in, but he would make due. He crept his way back to Founsel and found the smoldering wrecks of the homes he’d devastated the night prior. Leaping over the coals, the wind the wolf created stirred up the coals and one log caught fire again and it popped with a hiss. The sparks from the pop carried through the haze and settled under the cedar shake shingles of a neighboring home.

The roof ignited and the fire spread quickly. As the family inside realized their home was ablaze, they worked frantically to get out of the secured door on the first floor. Just as they swung the door open, the wolf crashed in to the house. He scooped up the family and chomped them lifeless. As he made his way out of the house, his tail whipped around and demolished the walls of the building.

The fired roof collapsed into the first floor and the rest of the house went up in flames too. The wolf went from one house to the next, and, before the first house had its fire settle down, had killed every last family member left in Founsel.

Another of the houses had caught on fire due to the embers, and the wolf had sufficiently destroyed the others in his thorough search for food. As he licked his chops, he crashed his way back into the forest so as to avoid the sunlight of the upcoming day. As he huddled under the thickest canopy he could find, he plotted out what he’d like to do to the sun so that he’d never again have to be afraid of the harsh daylight, and have the world be his very own in a state of perpetual twilight.

As night fell, the wolf left his day-hide and went through Founsel one last time, in order to locate the path which ran out of town. Smoke rose still from a few houses, but most sat in ashy ruin. The moon hadn’t risen just yet, but the wolf had little problem peering around the town once more in admiration of his work.

And soon he was on the cobblestone road until it reached the end of town and turned back to a dirt path. Along it he walked and ran for several hours, in search of more prey. He’d never been so far from Founsel before, but the need for larger or more quarry made him eager to set out.

He happened upon small homes with smoke billowing from the chimney and the faint flow of lanterns or candles illuminating the windows. These he stormed without prejudice and was on the trail again as soon as he swallowed down the family member which had made it the furthest away from the home.

And each of the homes was left in ruin, along with the families slaughtered. These were less satisfying than his other attacks in Founsel which had far more activity. But they made a small dent in his hunger as the night wore on and he covered many miles. Just outside the medium-sized town of Harsenth sat a scattering of smaller towns, each about the size of Founsel.

The wolf scouted out several of the towns before he settled on the one to attack first. The farm outside Toupil caught his attention with its plentiful livestock. Cattle slept on their feet in an open area by a barn. And the moon shown on them like beacons. He sprinted from the road and leapt a small ditch, before his jaws sank into two of the cattle. Their startled sounds woke the rest, which trotted around in a frenzy, unsure of what to do.

Before the owner could even fire off a shot, the wolf had devoured the last cow. And the smoke from the musket served only to cloud the farmer’s view of the monstrosity that bounded toward him and took him whole in the mouth. The rest of the family startled as he crashed through the wall but their cries were soon swallowed too.

Through Toupil and Soulsil, the wolf tore before his hunger was sated, and he felt the sky’s lightening indicate it was time to find shelter and shade from the near day’s heat.

((This feels like it could be the story to explain a diease that starts in a town and then spread through people fleeing the town, but they end up spreading it and infecting others.))

Word spread through Harsenth of the attacks. Chustal, Fonlal, and Harsenth put their small joint army on guard through the day and into the night. The original group of people who had fled Founsel had passed through here the day before (right?) and tried to spread word to the cities in their town squares and bars, but they were taken for lunatics and rapidly dismissed.

The caravan continued on and passed out of Harsenth on the way for Bansuth. The thousand people living between Chustal, Fonlal, and Harsenth filled the streets in a clamor to stand on ground high enough to see the wreckage of Toupil and Soulsil. They dared not go much nearer. When no smoke could be seen from the cities in the distance, some waved off the story as rumor. But when asked if they’d go to the cities and verify their claim, none rose to the occasion.

A group of young kids showed up clad in outfits and armor two sizes too large, but were eager. They vowed to tramp over and see the towns for themselves and report back. The crowd was split on whether they approved, but the kids proceeded regardless. And the rumors sprung up now.

Fantasizing at what happened as is so common when the truth is unknown. Anything and everything seems most likely then. And when the kids returned with their tale of the total destruction of Toupil and Soulsil, they were at once believed and disbelieved. One of the group had foreseen the difficulty in believing without proof, so he had drug the cornerstone from Soulsil on a makeshift stretcher. The cornerstone belonged to the town hall and served as proof of its destruction, and, as extrapolated, of that of the rest of the town.

The children said when asked that it seemed eerily quiet, but not much else was to be said. The Mayor of Harsenth made a rare appearance and declared an emergency, stating that all people not in the army were ordered to be in their homes until he had a chance to investigate the disaster as had befallen their neighbors and how it might impact them.

The streets eventually cleared, even though it took several hours and required the insistence of the town’s army to ensure all complied. Once the streets were clear, the Mayor sent summons to his Council to convene at his manor. They arrived promptly, all five of them, seeing as they all lived in the well-to-do area not far from the Mayor’s manor.

The first question for their discussion was what had happened. The rumor of the travelers and their apocalyptic wolf had made their way around to their ears. But it did not seem possible. One of the council related how she had tried to find out what had happened to the people who told that story, but all she got was, “Headed toward Bansuth.”

With some of the afternoon left, the council sent out a runner whose job it was to stay on the path to Bansuth and find these rumored people. Once the runner was gone, the group turned toward other inquiry. Many ideas were thrown into the mix: a monstrous wolf was real; a natural disaster; an attack by raiders; mass disease; mass panic. But none seemed to make any sense. It was hard to believe that with how close Toupil and Soulsil were to Chustal, Foulal, and Harsenth that none of the happenings had impacted anyone else.

As the evening drew on and the runner had not returned, the mayer felt compelled to do something that would assuage the worries of the town’s people, at least until they had something more to go on. A group of the army was dispatched immediately to search the towns for any evidence of what had truly happened.

Each person in the detail was told a specific trait to keep a watch for. The raiders, flood, fire, bodies with telling marks. Once they had been dismissed, the Mayor required that all army personelle within the area be mustered and put on duty, filly armed through the night. Each squadron(?) of soldiers would patrol a certain part of town for the evening. The Council and Mayor decided to stay at the manor through the night and the Mayor arranged for food and drink to be brought in. They would be able to keep an eye on the soldiers and be ready if either group sent out to search returned with news that would help them better prepare.

The soldiers patrolled the outskirts of the towns but were either quire nervous, owning to the uncertainty of what had destroyed the other towns, or completely unconcerned about things due to the uncertainty as well. The wolf had found a cave system that bordered the river, and was able to lie there during the day to keep his face and eyes shaded from the bright, burning sunlight.

As the sun fell past the trees that surrounded the cave, the wolf stirred. He’d grown larger yet as he slept, and had to really work to get himself out of the cave. The wolf’s stomach and feet rumbled as he walked through the forest, his tail brushing aside smaller trees whose trunks cracked in half.

The guards nearest to the borders of Chustal felt the ground tremor and looked out to the dark forest. Their hand-held torches didn’t even illuminate the boundary of the trees and meadow. But the snapping of branches filled the air, and the faint illumination from the sunset allowed them to see the treetops moving. No wind in the area could be causing that. And the soldiers shouldered their muskets, aiming them at the forest.

One was sent to ring an alarm bell, to alert overs of the disturbance. The trees stopped shaking and the sounds ceased too. The soldiers still pointed their weapons at the trees, but were uncertain of what to do, and cast confused glances at one another.

The alarm bell rang out again, and as soon as it tolled its last, the forest’s trees exploded outward and the wolf descended upon the army. Paws and claws and teeth and tail blurred through the sky as screams went up, along with stray musket balls. The wolf soon had killed the squadron.

And he was off, further into Chustal, seeking more blood and flesh and fear. Houses and businesses toppled in his path and people were taken from this life, family at a time. Fire spread from hearth to home and jumped from one ruined building to the next. The fire followed the wolf and served as an able companion to squander what he didn’t trample.

Chustal fell to the wolf, and many fled onward to Foulal, escaping the smoke and raining ask as much as the wolf. But the wolf had soon finished in Chustal, stopped to drain the town’s fountainhead of water, before storming into those in Foulal. The mayor watched the fire consume the far off buildings and the smoke glow with the flames on the haze. The Council stood at his side, speechless. He used a horn to urge the troops in Harsenth on to Foulal, to fight sa their oaths commanded. But none headed the Mayor, even if they heard him above the alarm bells that sounded throughout the area. The streets filled with citizens who looked to escape from town, before the wolf reached Harsenth. Foulal fell even more quickly than Chustal.

The wolf had reached a murderous efficiency, and trounced people and buildings alike, without even the faintest pretense of defense from the population there. Fire spread here as well, but a larger number of buildings of stone in the newer part of town kept it from all going up in flame. When the wolf had razed Foulal, he stood in the smoke, eying the town of Harsenth which was atop a hill that stood a good height over him. The fires about him cast warmth on his fur, and lent an eerie tinge to the coat that, when combined with the blood from his feasting, made his snout and neck look like coals smoldering in a fire.

He sat there, looking on the city, inspiring madness in those who looked back and saw him, and sped the emptying of significant portions of the city as people filled the road out of town. The moon rose and the wolf took a glance at the lightened area, deciding where to spend the coming day. His growing size made it harder and harder to find suitable shade. Tonight he’d use the rest of the darkness to find a spot. He was able to cover ground more quickly now, thanks to his size, and he did not want for energy.

The Mayor and Council watched his bulk disappear beyond a hill and into trees before looking around at one another, unsure of what to say or do next.

“We must leave too,” a council member spoke at last.

And none disagreed. The manor’s help loaded up wagons of possessions and provisions for both the Mayor and Council members. They left in a caravan, but made slow progress due to the people on the road. Looting had begun in Harsenth, but none spoke a word to the robbers. If the fools stayed here to enjoy their bounty, they would be the first meal for the wolf. Giving everyone else who fled a bit more of a chance to escape.

Clouds rode in and covered the moon with heavy layers that threatened storm. Rain did fall and muddied the path for all on it. The clouds over Chustal and Foulal glowed with the light of the fires which sputtered with the raindrops.

The rain also washed away the bloody tracks the wolf had left on his way out of town. But it would be many more hours before the wolf, how soaking wet, found any rest at the base of a cliff which had an overhand which afforded him a place to escape the rain and hopefully the sun of the coming day.

Fog and smoke mixed in the warm morning air, clouds broke overhead, and a real sunrise fell on Harsenth. The remaining people were looters or hardheaded. The looters wandered through the abandoned homes and businesses taking what they liked and defacing what they didn’t. The power and control they felt was unlike anything they had experienced before. They were able to stick it to those not there. Their looting was an expression of how their life had been justified. They now repaid people for all the pain they’d given.

The resolute people took the opportunity to fortify their homes. Under the grand delusion that they could stop anything. No harm would come to their family or home while they were on the watch. Preparation was the medicine for a fearful day. And life would not be worth living if they were away from their beloved homes. Nothing would wrest control from their hands and make them flee. That’s not how it works. They’ll live as they please, and if that means their life ends tonight, that’s just fine. Life isn’t worth living unless it’s fear-free and lived on your own terms.

The looters and preparers went about their days quietly, for the most part. None went to see the aftermath of Chustal or Foulal. To do so was inviting doom to them. The people who had fled, the refugees now, had walked all through the night, to and through their exhaustion. But after the sun had risen, most lie down on the side of the road to sink into a fretful, nightmare-ridden sleep.

Families carried children that were now too tired to keep walking. Some had brought along packs of food and ate it silently in the shade of trees off th path, to avoid having to share it with anyone else. For many had fled unprepared, and now begged for a small morsel for them and their weary family. A few did share, just thankful to have made it out of town and through the night without issue.

Behind the silent, chewing faces the minds of those with food felt no pity for their town members without food because they were caught up in self-pity for the home and livelihood and memories that had been taken from them. Even the Mayor and Council were unprepared in that regard. After he had abandoned the town and his post, did he have authority? Was he the appointed leader of that place? Or of the people in general?

He asserted his position as he claimed a place for his wagon to stop and a place to sleep, but was laughed away by the people he intended to displace. He was not respected here. He ended up sleeping on top of sacks of cloths and food in the back of the wagon. The council members in their nearby wagons did the same.

It was the best way to prevent anyone from taking their belongings as well. Each woke in the afternoon to find that the carriage drivers had left as a group, taking the horses with them. Now, the Mayor and his Council had their belongings but no way to transport them. As the group of people woke from their sleep and moved along the trail again, the Mayor tried to enlist help to carry his necessary and well-earned belongings. All those near him passed by, but for one woman who spat at his face. “We’re no longer your work beasts,” her husband said.

He and the Council sat down with their wagons and things, unsure of what to do next. The rest of the families and people made their way along the trail, on to Bansuth. But the trip would take multiple days. The path was hard and many large boulders broke the road’s surface. They had been too large to move when the road was built. And the path was quite steep in areas. Many grades up and down along the path.

The road wasn’t particularly well-traveled either. Bansuthians considered Harsenth and all the other small towns as derelict and stupid. Bansuth was indeed larger by many times, but the people living there were just as intelligent, hard-working, and driven to do something with their lives. The sixty thousand people of Bansuth dwarfed the three thousand who lived out on the Far Finger, but Bansuth still needed them.

Farming and logging were growing in demand, however begrudgingly the people of Bansuth would admit to their reliance on the Far Finger. The harsh terrain of the Finger kept most people away, but the ones living there were rugged and willing to put in the effort to take the land.

They marched along and made good progress during the warm day. Far off in the distance toward the range of mountains, the knuckles that separated the Finger from the rest of the continent. They never lost their snowy caps, and the crags stood out in the daylight as dark granite.

The sun fell past the knuckles and the land fell into twilight. Many families stopped for the evening. Fires lept up here and there, dotting the forest with light and smoke. They cooked their dinners and the fires were put out before nightfall. Some industrious folks packed up after dinner and marched onward. They didn’t intend to stop until they were even further from the wolf and the remains of Chustal and Foulal.

The rest made their beds where they could, and the kids fell to sleep after running around and playing before and after dinner. Parents stayed up and formed makeshift guard parties to keep an eye out for any rousings tonight. From the path, one could make out Harsenth in the distance. The lanterns people left on as they fled had not burned out yet. And the clearing in the trees that the homes had needed was a fingerprint of the city.

The night thickened, the towns lights blinked in the distance, some popping out of existence as their fuel ran out. A group had hauled a log out of the forest and sat it across the path so they would have something to sit on as they watched the peaceful night. Snoring floating through the trees and some talk and laughter as well. The group had been chatting but went silent as they saw Harsenth erupt in flames. The wolf had come.

The group let up a shout to alert those nearby. Flames spread in Harsenth and the night sky was lightened thanks to the overhead partial cloud cover which reflected the light. Parents leapt up and grabbed their kids and belongings, before heading off along the trail.

The wolf quickly ransacked the city and moved on to the settlements on its fringes. The smoke cloud thickened, rose, and blocked out the newly risen moon. The wolf took notice and stopped his ravaging. Sitting on his haunches, the wolf let up an enormous howl to the failed moon. The piercing noise roused everyone who stayed along the path.

They could see an impressive shape silhouetted by the flames behind it. A wave of terror took the refugees and the road was packed with people running. Lights up and far off marked the outskirts of Bansuth, giving a hope to those fleeing there. Just earlier tonight had the group who fled Founsel made it through the thick stone gates which were flanked by eternal fires. The fires stood for the welcoming of all who entered the city, and the well-wishes for all those who left it.

The wolf’s cry did not reach all the way to Bansuth, but the newly-arrived told their story of destruction to all the patrons of bars they could find. The far off red glint served as shaky proof of the ruin they had narrowly escaped.

The wolf’s howl subsided and he stood aain. His eyes made out the moving figures on the path, which seemed crawling with activity. Tonight he’d enjoy a find and terrored feast. The city of Harsenth hadn’t had many left, but he did enjoy picking at the bones of the city.With a jolt forward, he sprinted up the road, swooping and scattering all he encountered.

The fear that put them on the trail made the people even easier prey. All in one concentrated line. Not all had fled that way, and the wolf’s hunger was never really sated anymore. He was the size of a small hill and desired to grow onward. After bloodying the path with fragments of victims, the wolf spent the rest of the night playing in the surrounding forests. Hide and eat with his cunning, small, and pitiful toys. The wolf lapped his lips as dawn neared, having silenced the woods. Now to find a suitable dayhide.

The wolf found shelter in a shattered, narrow canyon that lay before the knuckles. The peak of the hottest days of the summer were upon the far finger, and the city of Bansuth was quieter than normal as people tried to pass the day in the shade.

The evening and a thunderstorm which dissipated the heat brought the town back to bustling. The town was a hub of activity in its unique location. Not so large as some towns on the other side of the Knuckles, but large enough for a frontier town. It connected the rough but resource-rich Finger, and other towns who were growing faster than their local resources would allow.

Trade and entrepreneurialism were capital here. The town was well lit and humming along as night approached and fell. The wolf left the steep-walled canyon which still radiated the day’s heat. Streaks appeared in the sky, which lit up Bansuth for brief instants, before pitching it back into twilight.

A meteor shower played out overhead, but the wolf paid it little attention. He sat along the foothills and watched the town bustle. To the poor observer, the wolf would appear as just another hill leading up to the mountains, so large had he grown after his Harsenth feast.

The refugees had been waylaid in Bansuth by sickness and a lame horse on their cart. They kept an ear out for stories about people fleeing from the West, but none came. The wolf’s howl soon did, however. And before the howl had finished reverberating in chests and off the mountain sides, the wolf was amidst the town, scattering brick and bone alike.

The center erupted into flame and muskets from the outskirts discharged, but the wolf-mountain did not yield like the people he devoured. The thousands and thousands of screams and lives that ended that night pierced the night more sharply than all the meteoric activity overhead.

Drunken on blood fever, the wolf paced around the lifeless town, deciding what next. The streaks in the sky overhead caught his attention. Humans were now such boring prey. Slow, gristly, and not even fun sport. But the meteors were fast, large, and would be a challenge. The wolf leapt into the night sky, leaving the Far Finger empty.

Observers of the meteor shower saw the huge bulk of the wolf blaze across the sky, but they knew not of the omen before them. The refugees had perished by the same hound’s tooth they so desperately fled, so their warning died upon the peaks of the knuckles, just as did their last, lamenting cries. The wolf had left the earth, but more would soon know his deeds.

The meteor observers stared skyward to catch another glimpse of the phantasm before their eyes. The wolf darted after a few meteors, snapping his jaws after them, but they were too large and fast for him. He soon gave up, exhausted, and disappeared behind the dark side of the moon.

The astronomers went back to their homes in the early morning, just as the towns were rousing. Their story of the wolf in the sky was shrugged off as the sleep-deprived hallucinations of addled minds. And they fell asleep in their beds, wondering what this portended.

The day passed with a few brief, bright flashes of a meteor’s last moments exploding in the atmosphere. But the shower really picked up in visible intensity again after dusk. Some people kept tally of the number of meteors they saw in their small watched portion of the sky, but the shower was at its peak tonight, and count was soon forgotten and they watched in awe.

The wolf appeared from behind the moon, glowing bright in the sunlight. He raced toward the earth, jaws gaping. Even larger tonight than last. More colossal than a mountain of the Knuckles. His speed was recovered as well and he chased down and captured meteors with his lengthy teeth. They glowed down his throat as he swallowed them, and a concussion sounded once they hit his stomach. He grew with each meteor he downed and grew more energetic too. The night saw him grow many times in size. And the sun’s rise sent the wolf back behind the moon, away from the intensity of the dazzling light he was now so much nearer.

Observers had fetched their families from their deep slumbers to show them the wolf was real. Now they would have more evidence and corroboration when they told others the following afternoon. News caught in the town like a flame and it was all anyone could talk about. The meteor shower was forecast to last for another several nights. But no one would be able to guess what the wolf would do. Feast among the easy prey of the meteors, or come back to earth to tear them apart?

None of these folks even knew the origin of the wolf, or how he’d destroyed the Far Finger. The pubs were full of stories of the wolf’s beginning, though none matched the terror of reality. Someone did suggest forging the metals of a downed meteorite into a shaft they could build an enormous bow to fire. What would that wolf’s hide be worth? Priceless.

But even more tempting was the renown such a feat was sure to bring. The wolf slayer. Forger of the stars. Scheming and planning sent the town into a frenzy as every adventurer and craftsman and sellsword plotted how to fell that cosmic beast first. Night approached as the killworks were assembled on the mountain sides, well above the treeline in a clearing made by a landslide decades past.

The wolf rose before the moon, frantically snatching up the meteors. He had grown in size again, to be larger than a continent. He filled an enormous portion of the sky, and meteors now appeared slow and small in comparison. But the amount of them he ate made his underbelly glow with their heat and light.

He set up an enormous howl and meteor sparks escaped his throat and trailed off into the sky until their embers darkened. The howling was also the perfect moment to unleash their weapons, in an attempt to slay the wolf. With ears covered, the people let loose their means of death. Catapults launched white-hot shot. Cannons fired iron arrows smelted and forged from meteoric cores. Muskets fired silver bullets, and crossbows sent up nets which spread as they flew until they opened wide for their target.

But all these devices fell back to the ground long before they posed any harm to the wolf. As their weapons failed, people let up disparaging cries. The wolf’s glowing throat and stomach grew in size as he gulped down the shooting stars. The observers and their families watched, transfixed.

Then the wolf slowed and ceased chasing the stars which went rocketing past him. He sent up another howl and then looked slowly backward toward the moon, which size he now rivaled. With a snarl, he darted off toward the moon and slashed at it with his clawed paws. Moon dust scattered off the surface and the wolf left behind long, deep gouges. The night sky light lit up as the moon’s surface rained into the atmosphere, giving light and color to the scene unfolding before the people watching from the mountain side.

The wolf’s tail lashed against the moon and sent it spinning. He twisted around with teeth flashing in the moonlight, and clamped his jaws shut on the moon itself. The wolf jerked its head back and forth and the moon splintered and then fractured into many large pieces and uncountably numerous small bits. The portion within the wolf’s mouth he swallowed down greedily, and the soft moon dust put out the light in him from the meteorites.

The world was a kaleidescope of light as the moon fragments twisted and spun and tumbled. Some of these also entered the atmosphere, only to burn up, but the wolf chased down and devoured most of the largest fragments. Once the night sky had faded into complete darkness, without the moon’s normal presence, the wolf looked sated. The wolf then disappeared into the night sky, shrinking into the vast distance, and a final shower of meteors and moon dust peppered the sky before the world fell quiet. Slowly the people grappled in the dark down the mountains and back to their homes where sleep came uneasily to them.

The moon’s disappearance from the sky was noticed by the entire town. And the next several nights were keenly watched by astronomers and curious folks alike. Several journeyed high up into the Knuckles to have a clearer vantage above the clouds and be nearer to the stars. But the wolf did not make an appearance for any of these nights.

Word eventually came in from coastal towns that the tires had stopped. Fishing had been majorly disrupted, but shipping was now in a weird place as well. Some places were now permanently reachable, while others were permanently out of reach. The total effects of losing the tides would take much longer to know completely. Towns now stranded were exploring moving closer to the now-stationary shoreline. And weather patterns were in flux as well.

After a week of diligent, but unrewarding sky-watching, the wolf made an appearance. He raced from the deep dark of the solar system and blazed a path in the sky like a comet, long silver tail trailing. The astronomers on the Knuckles had just received a new telescope, which they’d rigged up to get a better view of the planets. With it, they tracked the wolf and he was grown in size even more.

They guessed he’d been feasting on moons of planets further out, which they had no possibility of seeing, even with their new and powerful telescope. The wolf orbited the sun once, gathering speed and then flung itself at Mercury. The planet gave under the wolf’s weight, and careened out of its orbit, wheeling towards Venus. The two celestial bodies collided and molten rock fanned out as the planetary bodies ruptured into thousands of fragments.

The wolf drank the magma down like water, as much of it as he could before it cooled and turned into glassy rock. The planets’ fragments circled one another in eccentric orbits. Pieces smashed into one another and splintered into even smaller pieces. The wolf, glowing again from the molten planet he’d swallowed down, grabbed large chunks in his teeth and pulled them out into the far reaches of the solar system.

He never looked comfortable as he was close to the sun, so he must have taken the planet carrion far from the sun where he could eat it in relative darkness. Every few hours, he would return for another helping of the planet-wreck and drag it off. He enjoyed the spoils of these two planets for a week. Growing each day and requiring more of the planets at each feeding period.

The observatory on the Knuckles became a semipermanent settlement as the wolf’s actions persisted. The day time was used for astronomers to hike down to the town of Suu-manth and collect the water and food that had been donated by the town.

In exchange, the hikers spent a few hours at the pubs in town and relayed the happenings of the previous night. Capitalizing on the fevered interest in the wolf were bards who turned the stories into ballads which grew one stanza longer each day. Plays reenacting the birth and early days of the wolf were put on in a few of the central squares. The town shut down in the early afternoon each day for the gossip and news and entertainment.

A few smaller telescopes in town rented out time in the night to those wealthy and interested enough to try wolf-watching. The social capital that seeing the wolf with your own eyes brought was well worth the cost of admission. Many families stayed up late, laid out on their blankets in meadows, casting predictions and tales of the wolf’s upbringing as fireflies and warm air stirred about them.

The astronomers kept voracious logs of events during the evenings, and enjoyed the donates ales and wines from the generous city. Their necks craned skyward for most of the night. But it took weeks before one of them ever noticed the pitch dark that spread across the Far Finger. The lights of Bansuth were nowhere to be seen, even though the town lay just at the feet of the Knuckles. And there was nothing further out, although the observer wasn’t sure she’d be able to make out the smaller towns from this distance.

She was the same person who’d seen the wolf first leap skyward during the meteor shower and wondered if the two things were related. ((Wolf leapt from that side of the mountain range.)) She finished her night’s watch, keeping her curiosity to herself. The wolf finished with the rocky remains of Mercury and Venus tonight and scattered the crumbs into the distance with his tail before vanishing further out. And as day neared, she descended not toward Suu-manth, but toward darkened Bansuth.

Dalence did prepare a sack of dried fruits and skins of water before she ventured off. And she told some people on the top of the Knuckles that she was going to spend the day in Bansuth, to meet a friend of hers who was doing some business there as of late. She expected to be back by nightfall, but don’t be concerned if she was late in returning.

Tunshan thought it was strange for one so excited by the wolf to be cavalier with returning, since the wolf would likely be back, and who would want to miss that? But she didn’t say anything either. Perhaps this friend in Bansuth was a lover she had not seen in some time due to the distance.

Dalence started down a steep slope of scree as she made her way down to the pass through the Knuckles, the Splitskin. Few people ventured up higher than the pass itself, so there was no worn trail. Here and there she crossed small streams from runoff on the mountainsides, and, in northfacing pockets, she found patches of ice and snow much had so far withstood the summer temperatures. But they still fed the streams, little by little each day.

A fog lay over the ground below her which made it impossible to make out anything on the Finger. But further out she could see a few stray peaks, and they eroded the fog around them as the morning wore on. Several hours in and Dalence decided to lie down for a quick snack and a nap. She had not gotten any sleep since yesterday afternoon. She lay in a quiet grove of pine and used her knapsack as pillow.

A group of squirrels ran about and chased one another loudly in the shade and woke her. From the position of the sun now, she guessed it was two hours on, so maybe about 8am. She munched on some dried dates and began walking again. The trees were thick and the forest quiet, but here and there sun dappled the path.

She rounded a bend where the trees gave way to a steep cliff and she got her first good view of the Far Finger in the daylight. Even from ten miles out, she could see the darkened patches of the city, which stood in odd relief to the bright green forest surrounding, and the meadows that were sprinkled about.

She was still too far out to see details of the city, but her interest was piqued and she had been right to follow her gut. The path wound its way back into heavy tree cover for several miles, so she was not able to see much else. She had another snack while walking. The odd sleep schedule made her hungry at all hours of the day.

Eventually, Dalence came out of the forest as the trees ended and a wide, rough path lead on. From here, still a good ways above the city, she was able to see how far the fire had spread, and how thoroughly it burned the buildings. She also noticed the complete lack of people. The gates were surrounded by scattered clothes, trinkets, and other wreckage. Some if it was charred as well.

She thought how she had not brought any form of self defense. She wasn’t good with a musket or bow, but she was decent with a sling. Her sling sat at home, because she hadn’t thought to bring it up the mountain with her other astronomy equipment. She’d keep an eye out for something she could pick up as she walked into the city.

From up the trail she came to the empty gates. Both the fires on either side of the archway had burnt out. As she picked through the wreckage, for a sign of what occurred, she found an axe suited for chopping trees. She held onto that as she entered the city through the gates.

As she walked through, a flock of crows took flight, making an awful racket. The birds were enormous. They had been all over the broken rooftops and along the cobblestone path which had started outside the gates.

The fact the fires had burned out in the eternal dishes, and that no smoke rose from the ruined buildings meant that the city had met its fate several days ago at a minimum. She walked further in, looking for any human corpses. She found no full corpses, but she did find smaller pieces like fingers, teeth, feet, or hair.

A chipmunk ran down a lamp post and across her path, which gave her a fright. And with that, she’d had enough evidence to convince her that even if the wolf was not the cause, she did not want to stay.

Dalence turned from the courtyard and made her way out of the city gates the same way she’d come. The flock of crows had circled around and landed on the path outside the walls. Several birds picked through the debris. She startled the group again as she dropped the axe to the ground, and they took to the air. A couple crows dropped what they’d in their beaks, which she discovered to be dismembered toes. They were grey and waxy in the strong afternoon sunlight. A shiver ran down her spine and she ran up the path, away from the silent, empty, dead city behind her.

She kept running, sweating like mad, and the knapsack hitting against her back, until she reached the treeline. She entered into the scrubby forest here and continued along at a walking pace and brought the waterskins out of her pack to wash away her thirst.

She couldn’t help but think of all the thousands of people who had lived in Bansuth. And there were at least a couple smaller cities out on the Far Finger, right? Had they also been taken? The initial fear faded as she huffed and puffed up the steep mountain trail. And then she settled into thoughts of what she’d tell people when she got back.

Should she go straight into town? Should she warn the observers on the mountain first? What is the next step after that? Was there even anything to do? She pondered these as she continued along for several more miles. A group of clouds moved in from the ocean beyond the finger and broke the heat with their rain drops. A stream ran down the middle of the path and her shoes muddied.

Dalence decided as she neared the top of the mountain pass, the Splitskin, that she’d tell the group on the mountain first. They deserved to know the danger of the wolf they observed. And perhaps they’d give advance warning if the wolf made a move on the planet again.

The rain broke in the early evening as she scrambled up a boulder field and then more scree. She wasn’t following the way she had come down earlier, but she was making her was up as near to a straight line as she could. And when she got back to the campsite, she sat for a few minutes to catch her breath and thoughts before she told of her discovery of a ruined Bansuth.

Dalence explained her connection between the darkened lights of Bansuth and the wolf she’d seen leap into the heavens from that side of the Knuckles. Some in the group were skeptical of her tale of an empty Bansuth, but she encouraged them to look for themselves tonight after dark. And then hike into the city tomorrow. She had nothing to hide or lie about.

“The wolf grows larger with every comet or moon or planet it devours, right?” she asked to those around her. “And it makes sense to assume that it was once much smaller. Perhaps even the size of a normal wolf. Eating normal wolf food. But it must have out grown small game. And as it ate more and more, what more plentiful source of meat but a dense, human city? And it might have been the tipping point, where after devouring everyone on the Far Finger, it was large enough to transition to the sky.”

A man with silvery hair followed up with another thought, “And how hungry will the wolf yet get as it grows larger? Will it take our planet? Take us all?”

“I cannot say,” Dalence replied, “but what should we do?”

Another woman answered, “There is nothing we can do. Our weapons on the mountain sides failed.”

“All of them did. Miserably.” quipped a stocky man from beside her, and he gave a laugh and shook his head, resigned.

“I don’t mean what should we do about the wolf,” Dalence said. “I meant more what should we do in terms of telling others about this? Do we alert the entire city of Suu-manth? Or just the governor?”

“And,” the man with silver hair added, “do we become an alert group of sorts, instead of only an observation group?”

“Exactly,” Dalence said.

“Wouldn’t you want to know if your life would possibly end? I know I would.” said the stocky man.

The other woman replied, “So you could waste the time with worry? Give me death unknown and swift.”

The man with the silver hair said, “We have to at least tell the governor. The people elected him, so we should let him decide.”

No one argued with the logic.

“First thing in the morning,” Dalence said, “I’ll head down to tell him. For now, I need some rest.”

The group went about their business, and Dalence fell asleep in the shade of the boulder until evening, when the rest of the astronomers and star-lookers arrived from their day trip into Suu-manth.

The sun fell past the plains that spread out to the west of Suu-manth. The wind came in hard from east of the Knuckles, and the astronomers heard it howling through rocks overhead. Another telescope had made it into town from a nearby town’s Association of Heavenly Exploration. Donated to help discover as much as possible about the wolf from such a good vantage point.

The group helped assemble it and test out the focus and clarity. It’d been shipped in haste, and there was the possibility something had come loose in the bumpy carriage ride over. With a few small adjustments, it was ready for use.

This telescope was smaller than the other one, and not as powerful, but it would be a good way for another set of eyes to watch the skies. This one was pointed at Mars, and the larger telescope was aimed at one of the planets further out, Jupiter.

Night fell deeper, and all eyes scanned the scars for movement. A shout from the operator of the larger telescope brought a crowd over. He narrated as he saw the wolf appear from Jupiter’s shadow and gulp down several orbiting moons which the wolf now dwarfed in size.

From here, the wolf dashed for Jupiter, coming so close as to skim the surface of the atmosphere and drag a bit of the red gas in his eddy until it fell back down to the surface and then sank under the tumultuous top layer. From Jupiter, the wolf turned into a white streak as he made for Mars.

Both telescopes followed him now, and people took down notes as quickly as they could. The wolf comet was now visible with the naked eye, though most detail was only visible to the telescopes. Mar’s two moons were taken as the wolf circled his way down to Mars.

He landed on the surface and his bulk displaced great amounts of air which rushed away from him in what must have been a hellacious storm. He sniffed a bit at the ground and then pounced on the ground with its two front paws. Cracks radiated from the impact and dust leapt up. Several more times the wolf did this and the cracks spread further and deeper. The wolf didn’t stop until the entire planet was shattered and he could gulp down smaller pieces.

Fragments splintered in the shattered planet the wolf took into his mouth and shook violently as he clenched down with piercing fangs. These pieces broke up and scattered into myriad ways. Some clattered back to the surface, punching holes and ripples in the webbed land. Others arched and burned up on reentry to the atmosphere. Still others left the planet and tumbled through the void.

He feasted for hours and toyed with the skeleton of Mars. The wolf grew by an incredible amount in the time the people on earth watched. By the end of the night, the planet had shrunk by 25% or more, and the wolf was now as wide as the mess of boulders and magma that comprised the rest of the mass. The wolf leapt away and disappeared deep into the outer reaches of the solar system.

There were still a few hours until daylight, and people took turns with the telescopes looking upon the remains of Mars and cataloging the nights events. Some retired into their tents to catch some sleep and others roasted some meat and veggies on an open fire for a snack.

Dalence was one in the group who peered through the telescopes a few times, taking in the awe of seeing those planets with such detail. No longer were they just a pinprick of light. They were fully formed planets like the one she stood on. And she wondered if there were any creatures on those planets that had been destroyed in the wolf’s pillaging. Next largest in size was their own planet, and she wondered if they would be taken next.

As daylight crept over the world, she prepared to hike back to Suu-manth and find the Governor and tell of their revelation. Time was now short, as she expected the wolf to finish Mars the following night. The end of their existence might soon be coming from above. White-streaked and long-fanged. She could not much believe it was possible, nor could she easily process what she’d witnessed over the last weeks.

The silvery-haired man accompanied her and they set out for down and both enjoyed the light bringing to life the city at their feet. Smoke rose from chimneys all over Suu-manth.

For spread from the many lakes that dotted the land in and around Suu-manth. The foothills to the west of the Knuckles were home to many tens of thousands of people, and millions of fish in the lakes. Suu-manth had grown amidst the lakes and came to be the premier location in the area for its high altitude fish, which had a distinct, fresh quality from the mountain runoff.

The mountains provided many ice caves which were mined for the ice to use when shipping the fish. Tons of fish left the city daily, destined for cities further into the plains which did not have as quality or as tasty a population of fish.

Hundreds of lakes in the area were surrounded by small fishing villages. The epicenter of Suu-manth was only a small fraction of the sprawl which was considered Suu-manth territory. The sun rose higher and eventually sunlight spilled through the Splitskin. The mountains glew red above and behind Dalence and Starhen, the man with silver hair.

The sun that made it through the pass turned the lakes below into an undulating spread of color. Like hundreds of gems tumbled down from the mountains. The fishing tribes had two generations ago banded together to form an allegiance. The resulting group focused on collecting the bountiful fish into a central market which could be the go-to place for the neighboring cities.

No longer would individual fishermen have to spend time traveling to distant peoples to form a contract for fish. The marketplace of Suu-manth handled the networks and distribution. The fishermen then sold their fish to the marketplace for a price which was set by well-versed inspectors who rated the fish and declared their worth.

The ice caves yielded the ice to pack with lakegrass and fish for the long journey to markets in other cities where the fish would be sold to individuals there. The scale of sale this marketplace enabled was the entire reason why Suu-manth had become the largest town in the entire Fist.

The Governor had been introduced twenty years go as the head of fishing and settler of disputes. The office came open every five years and the most respected person in the city was elected to the seat. And the seat was literal. The central market had grown in size over the years, and large swaths were now covered. Atop the Bleed Stone sat a chair fashioned from old fishing craft, oars, and nets. And this seat the Governor would occupy each day, under the dense roof, each day from First Fish (when the first fish of the new season was beheaded on the Bleed Stone) until Last Barrel, which marked the end of the fishing season for tax purposes.

The lakes froze over soon thereafter, and while ice fishing was still an option, the central marketplace suspended operation for several months until the lakes thawed and First Fish. First Fish was a main event as well. From the lake next to the Bleed Stone, the fishermen raced to be the first to haul in a fish after the bell was tolled. The person to catch that First Fish was carried to the Bleed Stone, where the fish was killed, prepared, and eaten by the individual and the Governor. This fisherman was made an adviser to the Governor for the season, because he had good luck in the Catch.

It was here at the Bleed Stone that Dalence and Starhen requested Audience with the Governor and the First Catcher. They had to wait for an hour before they’d be seen. So the two shared a breakfast and tea at a popular stand in the marketplace. They quietly rehearsed what they’d say.

Their names were called and Dalence and Starhen walked around the Bleed Stone, up a set of stairs, and stood before the Governor, with the First Catcher off to the side. The Governor asked, “And what brings you here today?”

Dalence stood up straight and said what she’d practiced. “We are here to make you aware of a grave danger to Suu-manth. May we convene in private?”

The Governor sat forward and brushed his long hair behind his ear. “Come up here and tell me what danger you speak of.”

Dalence nodded to the Governor and took several steps forward, where she was within an arm’s reach. The First Catcher also stepped in as well.

“You know of the wolf eating the cosmos?” Dalence asked.

“Yes. We’ve heard stories daily from those on the Knuckles who watch the wolf nightly.”

“I and my companion,” she nodded toward Starhen, who then walked closer, “are a part of that group of observers. We watched the wolf devour the moon, and several other planets now. We fear he may soon devour the earth, and all of us with it.”

“How could he be large enough to eat the earth?” the First Catcher asked, as he ran his hand over his red beard and mustache.

“He grows larger each day,” Starhen said. “When Dalence first spotted him, he wasn’t large enough to catch a comet. Now, he’s devouring Mars itself.”

“And I suspect this wolf was originally from the Far Finger. I’ve traveled to Bansuth yesterday and found the city empty and only bits of its people were picked at by crows. The night I saw the wolf leap into the sky, he came from the eastern side of the Knuckles. Which would explain the death of everyone there.”

“So he fed on people before moving onto comets and moons and planets?”

“I believe so,” Dalence said. “No lights appear anywhere on the Far Finger. I’d fear they were all killed. And that the wolf will move onto Earth next, after he finishes Mars.”

“How long will that take?” the Governor asked.

“A day. Maybe two.”

“So quickly then?”

Dalence and Starhen nodded.

“We wondered what to tell the people,” Dalence said.

“To tell the people?” the Governor pondered. “They’ve heard of the wolf’s antics each day. That’s telling them enough. If the beast will come, but none of them were aware, what’s the harm? The rest of the world is likely just as unawares, yet it is not our responsibility to tell every last person alive. If none of them put it together, I say let it go. They can die having enjoyed the show instead of fretting about a doom which might not even come.”

“How can you give no one the chance to say goodbye to their loved ones?” asked the First Catcher.

“If they don’t do that each night already, what difference will a day make?”

“But they have a right to know,” explained the First Catcher.

“Every person thinks they’d like to know the day they’ll die. But who sits staring into death’s face and doesn’t with it’d come quickly already. No, I won’t trouble these people until we know for certain, and only would I give them the briefest notice possible”

The First Catcher shook his head and his brown eyes were wide.

“And you are forbidden from saying anything to them either, Chuthrell,” the Governor said.

“Unbelievable,” was the First Catcher’s reply.

“And I expect you’ll continue to watch the wolf?” the Governor asked.

“Yes, of course,” both Dalence and Starhen replied.

“We could try to warn you if we see the wolf coming our way,” Dalence offered.

“I’ve seen the speed at which he moves. There would not be time enough.” and the Governor waved his hand. “No, just watch and record and hope the end is swift, if it must come”

“Certainly,” Dalence said, and she extended her hand to the Governor, who took it and shook. Then he shook Starhen’s hand.

“I appreciate being informed. Best of luck.” The Governor left them with the First Catcher who showed them away from the Governor’s seat.

When they were out of view, Chuthrell asked, “Is there any hope of escape if I took my family now and left?”

Dalence shook her head, “If the wolf sets his eyes on us, there won’t be any place to hide. We’d tried to kill the wolf and that failed. Your best best would be to be with your family all you could.”

“You’re right,” he replied. “That would let me die without regret, at least.”

The three exchanged handshakes and the First Catcher walked back toward the Governor. With their task out of the way, Dalence and Starhen chatted about what they would do next. They agreed to part for catching sleep, and then meeting in the outskirts of down in the afternoon so they could hike back up the Knuckles together.

Dalence made her way home, where she saw her brother fixing a fishing line. She walked up behind him and gave him a bear hug, and said, “I love you.”

Her brother dropped the line from one hand and reached up to pat her arm. “I love you too, short stack.”

“I’m going to take a nap,” she said as she let go of him.

“I’ll be going out once I get this line fixed. But will you be around for dinner?”

“Maybe you could come up the mountain tonight and see the wolf for yourself?”

“You know I would, but it’s a long way to go when I have to be up so early.”

“You’re right,” Dalence said. “Early dinner then?”

“I can do that at least,” he replied.

Dalence patted his shoulder and then went into her bedroom.

“Let the wolf come,” she thought, “after I’ve had one more dinner with Brust, at least.” She’d be able to die without regret then, like the First Catcher.

Dalence woke up before Brust got home, and she decided to prepare dinner. With potatoes she combined other vegetables and made a casserole. As she waited for that to cook in the fireplace, she made a salad with fruits, nuts, and goat cheese. This cheese had come from the Far Finger, and Dalence was aware how this would be the last that she would ever have from the region.

She sliced a loaf of bread she’d made earlier in the week, and prepared some oil and herbs to dip it in. Her brother returned home about the time she was taking the casserole off the fire, and he had several fish in hand. She coated the prepared fish with herbs and threw them on a cast iron pot. Soon the house smelled of the delightful and rich scent of the food.

“How was your day, Brust?” Dalence asked.

“Once I got the line fixed, not bad. But I caught fewer fish that normal because I was working with a new oarsman. He is new to the trade and young, so I’m sure he’ll improve.”

“The fish you brought home tonight smell wonderful,” Dalence said.

“These three were half the day’s catch! So I hope they’re worth it.”

Both Dalence and Brust served themselves the fish, casserole, bread, and salad. They spread out the wood in the fireplace to cool the fire and opened the windows to do the same for the house. They traded small conversation and jokes as they ate. The casserole paired well with the fish, and the salad was a summer staple in their family.

Once they had finished, they washed their dishes with water that Brust had hauled up earlier that morning, as he always did. They then moved to the porch where they watched the clouds move overhead, and they sucked on a few hard candies Dalence had purchased that morning at the marketplace as they waited to see the Governor.

“And what news of the wolf?” Brust asked, as he played with a loose string on his pants.

“He has started on Mars now. Will probably have it finished in the next day or two. They got another telescope up there, so there is more opportunity for other people to see things in more detail. You would not imagine how that planet looks besides being a point of light in the sky. And the wolf has distinctive tufts of matted fur around his neck, which give him an ominous feel. He’s mostly grey, but has a few dark bands that flow down his body. Tail incredibly bushy. Coat so thick, it looks like he’d be deep in the winter.”

“And you could see all that through a tube? Incredible,” Brust said, and Dalence nodded in agreement.

“And how large are his fangs?” Brust asked.

“You’d never believe their size. Probably the size of the range of the Knuckles now, if he were to come pay us a visit. But on him they are so long they stick out of his snout. That certainly gives him an aggressive quality as well.”

“At that size, all the fish in the Fist wouldn’t even register in his belly,” Brust said.

“Fortunately for us, a handful will really hit the spot,” Dalence replied.

“Right you are, little sister. And I suppose you’ll be heading out soon?”

Dalence looked to the sky and found the sun. It was edging lower now, and she might already be late for meeting Starhen.

“I think so. I’m meeting a colleague to hike back up with.”

They both stood and walked inside. Dalence readied supplies which she put into her pack and then slung over her shoulder. Brust moved to an upholstered chair and picked up a book sitting on a table nearby.

“Is it any good?” Dalence asked.

“Yeah. It’s not bad. This one’s a collection of stories from sailors. The sea is even more finicky than the lakes.”

“If you had whales, you’d be finicky too,” Dalence laughed. She walked over and hugged Brust from the side. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.

“Be safe and have fun,” Brust replied.

Dalence walked out the door, wound her way through the streets, and made her way to the rendezvous spot. She was actually the first to arrive, so she sat on a boulder and waited. Several minutes later, Starhen arrived.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I slept too long,” he explained.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was only a few minutes before you.” Dalence got up off the boulder and joined Starhen at his side. The sun ducked behind clouds that had come over the Knuckles. The day was still warm, and the land radiated additional warmth. As they climbed higher, they could look over their shoulder and see the sun-dappled land stretch out before them.

Both felt well-rested for the hike. Starhen ate a sandwich as they went along, because he’d not had a chance to eat before leaving home. Dusk was nearing to night when they arrived at the campsite. They’d passed a few people on the way up, and been overtaken by others. The camp filled up more and people set up their gear for the night and then passed the time.

A few stragglers loudly made their way up the last few hundred feet by calling out for someone to guide them, along with using the glow of the fires. Dalence laid out on a relatively flat piece of ground and looked to the stars. She located Mars, and looked for the telltale streak of the wolf. Nearby she could hear people chat about what they saw through the telescope as they took turns watching. Others were recapping last night’s events and making predictions about what tonight would bring.

Then, the wolf’s comet tail shown in the sky and Dalence got to her feet and walked to the larger telescope, her eyes fixed upward as she felt around with hands and feet. A hush went over the crowd as those with the telescopes told how the wolf darted back toward Mars, larger than ever. The rocky remains of the planet were only his size now, maybe less.

The wolf slowed as he approached Mars now. He came to a rest “standing” on the collection of fragments. But from the view point of those on Earth, the two stood side by side. Again, the wolf raised up on his back legs and pounced down with his front legs. He did this several times in quick succession. It broke up the pieces which had melded back together under their own weight, and one last pounce shattered the boulder pile and sent pieces flying outward.

The wolf looked like he was playing in snow. He snapped his jaw shut on a few pieces skimming past his side and leapt after others nearby. He spent the next several hours chasing down and devouring the many thousands of pieces he had scattered.

The sky on Earth twinkled with light as the pieces of Mars tumbled end over end, scattering all the light that hit them. The circle they made slowly spread as the pieces separated. The streak of the wolf’s fur reflecting light connected one sparkle to the next as he chased each piece down.

By the end of his feast, the wolf had tripled in size, even though it was difficult to accurately measure without a solid planet nearby to reference. The telescopes did not change their focus the entire night, so they were able to estimate by how large a portion of the view the wolf occupied.

Many smaller fragments formed a small cloud which the wolf did not bother with. As he raced off into the depths of th solar system, the cloud could still be observed through the telescopes as it tumbled and shimmered and expanded. It was an impressive sight for Dalence as she squinted to look through the viewpiece. Like a handful of crystals had been scattered by the wind. These mesmerized the group until dawn arrived and made it impossible the see the specks against the sky.

The wolf had now eaten his fourth ((third!, plus a moon)) planet. Discussion and recapping happened over an early breakfast, before the sun came over the Knuckles. Dalence was getting into her tent to sleep as she heard a group rehearsing the story they’d tell once they got back to Suu-manth. Footsteps clattered against stone as Dalence wondered when these people slept at all.

And she faded off to a dream where she was the one in the sky that the wolf rushed toward. And it was her body that splintered and scattered as the wolf pounced time and time again. It was the powdery remains of her bones and the frozen air from her lungs that spilled outward in a cloud after she’d been mostly consumed. It was her blood that coated his chest and further matted his fur as her essence scattered into the black void and shimmered until dawn came.

Dalence jerked awake to the sensation of falling into her blanket. She rolled over and took a drink from her water skin. The altitude dehydrated her, and her throat felt itchy and dry. She looked at the V top of her tent until she fell back to a deeper, dreamless sleep.

Dalence woke to the sound of her tent’s fabric flapping against the wind. She lay there for a moment, watching the ripples make their way down the tent’s sides. Then rain drops, heavy ones, hit the fabric and left darkened spots which spread out as the water absorbed. She rolled over, pushed up to her hands and knees and crawled out through the tent’s flap.

The air was much cooler now with the sun behind the thick clouds that hung above all the land she could see. A steady wind blew at her back, coming over and down the Knuckles. Those large rain drops didn’t fall too quickly yet, but they had inspired a lot of motion in the camp. People were dismantling their tents and readying their packs. The telescopes sat in wooden crates, which were covered with canvas tarps.

Dalence walked over to Starhen and asked, “Is everyone packing up to head off the mountain?”

“The wind picked up a few hours ago, and brought the clouds over. According to some who had hiked to the Splitskin, a dark line of clouds and heavy rain is headed this way. And no one wants to be at this elevation and exposed when the storm arrives.”

“You’re right about that,” Dalence said, and a rumble of thunder rolled over the mountain from a great distance. “When that storm’s on the Knuckles,” she said, “I’m sure the lightning will will lick at the mountains with forked tongues.”

“Better get packed then,” Starhen said. “I’d like to move soon. The rain is only going to pick up.”

Dalence walked back over to her tent. She pulled up the stakes, collapsed the tent, and rolled the wooden poles up in the canvas. She bound this roll up with twine, and attached it to her pack. Inside went waterskins, snacks, and her blanket. She and Starhen checked whether anyone else nearby needed help before setting off down the scree and boulders.

The rain steadily increased as they hiked, and by the time they were half way down, they were soaked through. Along the way, they passed the groups of people who were transporting the telescopes. Leather straps on all four sides of the crates were held by four different people. Insurance against dropping the valuable equipment on the way over the rocks.

The lightning and thunder were just coming over the mountain tops as they made it to Suu-manth’s furthest edge. Dalence and Starhen agreed to meet at the central marketplace once the storm broke, and parted ways. Gusts of wind brought the rain down harder against her neck and pack, as she made her way home. Smoke rose from the chimney as she neared. Brust must be home and making lunch.

She stepped inside the warm house and shut the door against the rain. Her shoes squished water as she stepped to the fire and took off item after item, all soaked. She spread the tent over a few chairs in the living room and the table there. Brust came out of his bedroom and helped hang her shoes by the hearth.

“I wondered when the storm would bring you back in. The fish must have known about the storm, because none had been biting all day.”

“I woke up to the sound of wind and raindrops on the tent and made it down before it could get much worse. I wonder if the storm will last long,” Dalence said.

“It’s hard to say,” Brust replied, “but it keeps getting darker, which means we’ve got the worst yet to come.” And he lit a few lamps in the house to offset the darkness outside.

They both shared stew and bread as the storm intensified. Lightning shown through the windows and thunder shook at their chairs. The light continued to fail outside as the rain came down harder and evening neared. After the street lights outside were lit, Dalence decided to head to the marketplace. The weather might keep them off the mountain, but it wouldn’t keep people from gathering for drinks, gossip, and revelry.

She threw back on her damp clothes and shoes and let Brust know where she was off to. Brust was adding more wood to the fire, and said, “I’ll be here.”

She had a ten minute walk in the storm and could see the people lighting the street lamps as they were silhouetted against the sky when lightning forked in the air. Her shoes hardly noticed the puddles she stepped through. Sometimes being in a storm was nice. Freeing in a way.

Dalence crossed over a bridge, water gargling underneath, higher than normal. The wind whipped and gusted as she folowed the road past houses. The water streaming off the rooftops caught in the wind and made bubbles in the streams that were running along the channels alongside the pathway. The sky flashed and the loud, deep peel of thunder told her the storm was strong. Several more claps came from right above her, and she saw the marketplace as she rounded a bend.

The water off its roof made a near sheet over the entrance, but she ducked through and pushed the door open. It was warmer here and drier but for the wet tracks people like her had brought in. Lamps burned bright and people wandered through the maze of stalls, looking at the items for sale.

She shook off as best she could as she made her way to the center court. The best drinks in town would be there, along with those enjoying them. The sound of talking and laughter grew as she passed more stalls where the owners called out for her attention for the hats, jackets, plates, chairs, herbs, and jewelry they stocked.

A man whistled at her as she entered the court. The long, wooden tables were nearly full, and plenty of people stood beside the tables. She ignored the man and walked further into the group. Dalence scanned the faces and found a few she knew. As she expected, several from the mountain were here. One of the telescope crates sat on the tabletop and drew the attention from curious folks.

She walked over to the table and ordered a summer ale from the Fist’s plains. The host took several empty mugs with him as he headed to the bar.

“Dalence,” a man said, and waved her over.

“Afternoon, Woustan.”

“Ordered a beer yet?”

“It’s on the way. What are you drinking?”

“The red from Three Casks. You?”

“Always a good choice. I got the summer ale from Flathold.”

Woustan took a drink. “You’ll have to let me know what you think.” He patted the crate that sat on the table.

“I see you all made it down safely with the telescope.”

“Aye, and it was quite the honor to be chosen to courier this delicate equipment.”

“That is is,” Dalence said. “Quite fortunate we have had its exclusive use lately.”

“With such an historic event going on in the sky, it’s no wonder.”

The waiter returned with the ale for Dalence and she fished some coin from her pocket to pay him.

“It’s unfortunate this storm drove us off the mountain,” she said.

Woustan laughed, “I agree, but it was surprising we had that long a streak of good weather.”

“That’s true, but I mean more that the wolf finished Mars last night, so now it’s a toss up as to what he does next.”

Woustan brought his voice down and raised his glass. “Hence why I’m here,” he said. “If the wolf makes for Earth tonight, I’d prefer to have beer in my belly.”

“You do have the right idea,” and she clanked her mug to his and took a healthy gulp. She enjoyed the ale and the discussion for the next several hours. The group discussed the wolf, but then went on to other topics like what to do about the Far Finger, and then to regular topics of fish, travel, and beer. The storm outside raged on.

Dalence woke up but could not tell what time it was because the rain still fell in a torrential downpour and low clouds kept out most sunlight. Brust’s door was still shut as she walked into the living room.

She’d gotten back late from the central marketplace, but Brust had gone to spend the evening with friends and got back even later than her. He stumbled into the house, forgot he was taking his shoes off, and kept looking for matches to light a lamp. Dalence crawled out of bed and got him to bed, where he promptly passed out. She then fell asleep some time later to the sound of rain on the sidewalk, roof, everywhere.

Now, she made oatmeal on the stove and drank water to make up for last night. Dalence tried to sit on the sofa and read part of the book on star charts which she was half way through, but she kept drifting back to sleep. She eventually gave up and went back to bed. She fell asleep immediately and most of Suu-manth passed the dark, damp day similarly.

A tremble woke her. She lie there and wondered what it was. Had she woken herself up with a twitch? But it was as if she’d been roused from a deep sleep. There it was again. The bed shook slightly for a few seconds. A pause and a stronger shake. The books on her night stand vibrated. She shot straight out of bed and out of her room.

Brust was asleep on the sofa now. She shook him hard on the chest as the plates in the cupboard rattled.

“Brust, wake up!”

A snore caught in his throat as his eyes crept open.

“We’ve got to get up,” she said again. “The wolf is coming.”

He wore a confused look on his face until it was replaced with a sweeping realization. A book clattered from the sofa’s table to the ground, pages slowly folding over to a steady open state. Dalence grabbed Brust’s arm and drug him up. She grabbed both his and hers coats from the coat rack by the door and opened the front door.

Others had made their way outside too. She wasn’t sure where to go for the best view. The marketplace was likely to be crowded, and she didn’t like the idea of a large group. She lead Brust’s sluggish figure toward the fringe of town, where they might use the foothills of the Knuckle to gain a vantage point.

It was night time now, but the lamps had been refueled and re-lit. Lightning forked across the sky again as a powerful tremor passed through the town. She heard children begin to cry. The quaking was steady by the time the reached a hill. She wiped water and hair from her face as she scoured the area for any clues.

“What is going on?” Brust asked as he looked about.

“Those are the steps of the wolf. He’s come, of course, on a night when we can’t see shit.”

“Do we have anything for a weapon?” he asked.

“I didn’t think to grab something as we left home.”

Brust groaned, “This headache is awful.”

“Just sit down,” Dalence said.

A stronger wave struck the area and filled the air with a deep sound. A house on the periphery of town had its roof collapse. A shout went up as the neighbors next door asked if the owners were still home. The shaking intensified until both Dalence and Brust collapsed to the ground. Dalence crawled over to Brust just as a series of lightning bolts illuminated the jagged Knuckles. A landslide or avalanche of rocks broke free of their hold some way up the mountain and tumbled down. An incredible clamor washed over the two and they clung to one another. Animals wailed and flocks of birds could be seen against the sky as lightning brightened the clouds. More houses failed and splintered and crashed, and contents ignited from fires and lamps. The insides were not yet drenched in rain.

Dalence shouted to Brust, “I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive of you, but I’m glad we got to have lunch yesterday.” Her voice failed and Brust clutched her harder and pulled her into his arms.

Another cliff of rocks broke free and the sound grew louder, the screams harder to hear, and the ground shook with a renewed intensity. Brust shouted over the noise, into her ear, “I’m scared, so scared. The end of the world is here and we can’t even run from it.”

A bridge nearby toppled into the water flowing under it.

“I’m glad,” he added, “that we’ll go holding each other.”

The ground’s shuddering trailed off and came to a stop. They both staggered to their feet. A great light erupted in the west and they both took off running toward the mountains eastward. The crack of thunder hit them as another set of lightning bolts tore through the sky. They saw a great chasm yawn miles to their right as the grounds shifted and moved apart. Water from a lake next to it drained into the gulch and stead leapt skyward.

The ground shook again just as they got across the river whose bridge had collapsed. They both staggered forward and fell as they couldn’t keep a foothold again. The mountains cast down more rocks and the entire sky was thick with vibration and sound and fear. A shape appeared above the mountains as lightning flared, and Dalence let out a shill scream with Brust’s low one as she glimpsed the beast she’d watched for so long. Lightning struck up into the mountains at the eyes of the wolf.

A great wind swept over them, bringing the vapor that poured into the air from the trench northward. It was a warm blanket until a colder wind replaced it. The lightning went dark for a moment as the quaking reached its most fevered point. Dalence opened her eyes and craned her neck backward to look at the wolf on the mountains. Its eyes glowed there until rain hit her eyes and forced her to look away and yell to Brust.

“He’s here, Brust. I love you!”

“I love you. I love you.” he replied.

Dalence prepared for teeth in her back. But the trembling lessened and the rain let up at the same time. She still held Brust and dared not look out. Another crack of thunder and the ground settled to a nervous jitter. The two of them lay there, drenched and terrified. The ground had calmed, but they both shook with fear. A few more quick spasms of the earth beneath them and the world lay eerily quiet. Dalence finally opened her eyes.

The rain broke and Dalence could only see the city during a brief few flashes of distant lightning.

Brust said, “Dalence, are you okay?”

She wrapped her arms around her brother, “I am. I am. I’m not sure what’s happened, but the storm is let up.”

She was pulled to her feet by Brust and they stood collecting themselves. She turned back toward the mountains and said, “I saw the wolf on the mountains with eyes glowing.”

Brust turned and looked upward. The shilouettes of the range were barely darker than the clouds behind. A wisp of cloud crossed the mountains and trailed off over the city. Left behind were two burning tree stumps that had exploded when hit with lightning. Brust said, “I think that’s lightning caused that,” and he squeezed Dalence to him.

“Then he must still be over there,” she said.

Brust turned back to Suu-manth. The faint light from the burning buildings or street lamps which survived the tremor stood in the night.

“Dalence, it might have only been a bad quake. Look at the city.”

She turned as well from the burning trees to smoking homes where flames sputtered against the dripping water.

“But, Brust,” she said as he took her shoulders and started back toward town, “what if he comes back?”

“I’m just as afraid of what we’ll find if he doesn’t,” he said.

Through the messy streets, they found their way back home. None of the homes and buildings they passed had gone unscathed. Even their home, when they stood looking at it from the road, had its roof partially collapse in. The bedrooms stood in a fractured wreck, as the fire in the lamp that had fallen to the floor peetered out. A low roll of thunder drew their attention back to the sky. Clouds were breaking apart and a few stars were now visible.

They walked next door and found their neighbor, an elderly man, laying sprawled on the grass. His chimney had collapsed and struck him as he left the house. They rushed to his side and checked his pulse, but he was lost. A brick had fractured his skull and others has pummeled his body. Brust took off his jacket and lay it across the man.

The clouds cleared out more as they went from house to house, looking to help anyone. The stars soon sat overhead and Brust and Dalence sat near the wreckage of a school house. Dalence numbly shook her head as she watched the sky. The wolf hadn’t caused this, as she feared, but the damage was still severe. A light caught her eye. A streak in the sky; long but faint.

A shout went up nearby and she could see the injured man point to the sky. Others looked and repeated after him, “The wolf.” The streak zigged and zagged in the sky, which confirmed it. But the wolf was still too far away to make out. Dalence jumped up and shouted to Brust, “I’ve got to find Woustan!”

She faintly recalled where he lived and ran that direction. His house had survived mostly in tact, it being stone. Woustan was sipping on a drink with a neighbor on his front steps. Dalence ran to his yard and asked, “Woustan, do you have the telescope? The wolf’s in the sky.”

He ran his hand through his hair, looking exhausted. “Yes, it’s just inside.”

Dalence noticed a tree that had fallen onto his house at the back and had cast a few stones into the living room. Woustan appeared lugging the crate.

“I got it outside with me before the shaking got too bad to run. But after the quake I wanted to keep it dry, so I put it back.”

He sat the wooden box on the ground and flipped open its latches. The metallic tube sat safe in its straw bed. Dalence asked how she could help and Woustan told her to wait as he set it up. First the tripod legs and then the large clip that he’d attach the body to. He swung it around to point to the sky, and then attached the viewpiece.

They both looked to the sky to locate the wolf. The streak was still faint, but very long. Shortly, Woustan had the lens trained on the wolf. Dalence asked to look herself, and Woustan stepped aside. The shape was small. A white splotch that moved across the stationary stars in the background.

“Woustan, which telescope is this?” Dalence asked.

“The smaller one, unfortunately,” Dalence sighed.

“Do you know where the larger one is?”

“Houmere kept it as his inn, but I saw earlier that both the inn and the telescope were destroyed by the quake.”

Dalence peered again through the telescope. This would have to do.

Brust eventually found Dalence in the street, talking to Woustan. Dalence told him the wolf was active tonight, but too far away to make out doing what. The morning lightened the sky on the side of the planet behind where they looked. Dalence looked through the telescope again. And the streak veered off in a new direction. She tried following it and had to ask Woustan to help guide her. She finally caught the wolf again and this time his fast shape was just visible.

He was speeding along, and Dalence was unsure why. Then a planet came into view of her telescope. One of the gas giants. The wolf hit the planet with all his speed and the planet exploded. Gas spread out from the impact like blood from a gunshot wound. It was hard to tell just how large the wolf had grown. The wolf circled back around and snapped up the wisps of atmosphere he’d scattered, and sped off again.

The sky grew orange with the coming sunrise and the wolf streaked the sky as he frantically raced about. He took another planet further out down whole, which was noticeable from the spark of light disappearing from the sky. The sun crept over the Knuckles now, and the wolf made a move so fast that Woustan lost it from the telescope. The streak in the sky grew bright and wide and long. The wolf was on a straight course.

The wolf grew larger in the sky and could now be made out in full form, brighter than the sun now, leaving a trail burning behind him. Then his size diminished. He’d reached his nearest approach to the earth, passing it by, and continued onward. The streak grew brighter and brighter as the wolf shot toward the sun.

His fur shown brilliant and his jaws gaped wide. The wolf passed in between the sun and the earth and caused several seconds of darkness as he eclipsed the star. His size was gargantuan, which became more apparent as he neared the sun. The wolf swept a wide arc away from the sun and then came back to it, slowing its approach as it neared.

The wolf seemed to be molten now, he was so bright. Fangs nearly melting with the heat. The wolf came closer, more slowly now, until he leapt forward with one solid motion and clamped his teeth shut around the sun. His eyes burned solid gold and fire streamed out his nostrils and smoke poured out from his lips as did tongues of blue flame. The wolf pulsed with light and grew in size even as he sat there; the sun in his mouth.

His radiant fur dimmed as the flames from his face subsided. The wolf’s eyes never lost their intensity, though it was not enough to sustain the sunrise, and now the sky had gone dark again. Two glowing eyes gave enough light to see a bit around them, and the group of people exchanged looks.

“The sun is eaten.”

Brust and Dalence grasped hands as they stared into the sky. She squeezed his hand and said, “You were right. The end of the world is here, and we can’t run from it.”

“I still love you,” Brust said.

“And I you,” Dalence replied.

The wolf blinked and barred his teeth. Sunlight streamed out in filaments before the beast’s mouth closed once more in satisfaction.

Dalence laughed, and Brust asked, “What?”

“I wonder: what are the thoughts of an eaten sun?”